


The Primrose Path of Dalliance

by Manna_di_San_Nicola



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: BDSM, Cock & Ball Torture, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Face Slapping, Femdom, Masochism, Mild Blood, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sadism, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 13:59:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15642174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manna_di_San_Nicola/pseuds/Manna_di_San_Nicola
Summary: The pleasure that so naturally follows business. Title from Hamlet because I'm pretentious garbage.





	The Primrose Path of Dalliance

**Author's Note:**

> This is short, but I haven't written fanfic in a hot minute and getting back to writing is always good, so shut up.

It was a late night, as they tended to be when she was in Zadash. The ragtag misfits he’d come to find unexpectedly useful were a long departed memory. As were most others from the Evening Nip’s various bars and rooms.

Except, of course, this private room.

And these private two.

Her long fingers ran down the parchment as she read the finer points of their accord. Yellow eyes narrowed and pensive, gaze sharp as her horns.

She caught him staring. Quirked a brow. He had known her long enough to know when she was looking him over. He shifted his legs, spread them wider. He’d been hard since she’d bit his lip. Straining against his breeches. Nearly begging to have her fingers on his cock.

He needed to grip his knees to keep his own fingers away.

Ophelia scoffed. Clicked her tongue to scold.

“What disgusts me more – your impatience or your depravity? I can hardly choose.”

Liar. Tease. Succubus. They’d negotiated twice this amount of product in half the time before. She’d drawn out the talks deliberately to torment him. The Gentleman knew it and Ophelia knew he knew – it was why they worked.

The Gentleman smiled as his hands slid up his thighs. “I’ve never known you to bother choosing when you could have it all, sweet.” His nails were never long, certainly never as long as hers, but their scrape through his trouser legs was a nice prelude. “And, in my domain, you always have it all.”

Ophelia crossed her long legs, the shining fabric of her maroon robe sliding away bit by bit to reveal more smooth gray skin. He couldn’t hide his gaze on that unveiled treasure like she could. He didn’t want to.

She turned her head away from him. Back to the papers. He could see her at work once more, pondering. Was he trying to seduce her because he hadn’t bothered with any tricks in the deal and was eager for some excitement? Or was the seduction an attempt to distract her from some vital shifting of commerce in his favour?

She’d only find out when the game was over. That was half the fun.

Ophelia shook her head. “I forget, in my absences, how pathetic you are. How desperate to be owned.”

Only for her. He said that part with nothing but a smile.

“Lucky for you, everything seems in order.” She picked up the quill, dipped with ink. Her signature slashed across the paper like a foe’s throat. Once they handed that off, the brave souls they both employed would start moves that would ensure they’d both be very rich.

Which was to say _more_ very rich.

Ophelia stood from her seat. The Gentleman nearly pouted in despair as her robe fell back over her incredible thighs. Such a loss was barely soothed by the gain of all that platinum they were due. But suffering was such an important part of business and pleasure for them.

Her hand came to his face. A ringed finger traced through the dew his genasi heritage granted.

“So quiet tonight, my dear? Is your lip paining you so intensely?”

Ophelia brought the finger and its jeweled adornment to her lips as she watched his face. Her facade of genuine curiosity, as if she wasn’t driving him mad, was flawless.

The Gentleman grinned all the wider.

“It is agony. Won’t you kiss it better?”

A backhand, delivered with a smile almost as wide as his.

He’d known the second he’d seen that ring that it would break his lip open almost as deliciously as her teeth could. She hadn’t disappointed him yet.

He felt the blood drip down his chin. She presented her hand, the sharp angles of the ring as coated as his face had to be.

“What a mess you’ve made. Clean it up.”

He dove for it like a man starved. His long tongue slurped every drop away and tickled at her fingers besides. She indulged him for a moment, then tugged her hand away with a noise of disgust.

“Animal.”

She examined the ring with a moue to her lips.

“Adequate. Though I expect you to buy me an unsullied replacement.”

A ring like that only had value as a punctuation to a slap. But, oh, how he groaned at the casual order. He’d buy her all of old King Dwendal’s crown jewels if she’d only hit him again.

Ophelia deliberately misread the groan. “What? Don’t you think I deserve it?” She took only the tiniest step backward and lifted her foot. “Don’t you think I deserve beautiful things…” She pressed the heel into his groin, hard and unforgiving against his sac. “… for putting up with a disgusting…” The arch beneath her toes ground against the head of his cock, pushing it tight against his pubic hair. “… _sweaty_ pervert like you?”

His teeth grit with pleasure and pain, but the Gentleman still managed an unimpressed look for that comment. She only smirked for a moment, then the mask of disgust was affixed anew.

“Tell me you aren’t so pathetic as to come before you even have your trousers off.” Ophelia moved her foot up and down his shaft, forcing the fabric covering it into a rough stroke. For all her talk of disgust, forcing him to come in his pants seemed exactly her aim.

The Gentleman leaned forward. Kissed her knee. “I wouldn’t dream of coming before my lady.” Moved his fingers up her calf, then her thigh, a feather touch that slid higher and higher. He could feel the heat of her mere inches away.

“Finally, some hint that you deserve the title of ‘gentleman’.”

Ophelia lifted her leg up, hooked it over his shoulder. The hour was late, but they didn’t call his domain the ‘Evening Nip’ for nothing. Again, the Gentleman moved forward with hunger and singular purpose. His fingers pushed her folds to the sides and he swiped his tongue up against the wet opening. He twisted it to the left and right, spelled her name against her cunt, let her feel it was all for her.

She snarled like the demon that had gifted House Mardun untold years ago. Because her roaring mouth was too far away, he kissed her clit.

Ophelia slid her other knee between his legs, bracing herself on him and on his chair. She rocked her hips forward, forcing his tongue deeper, demanding more. He was far too thoughtful a business partner to refuse.

She shook and writhed as the Gentleman brought her past ecstasy, her back arching with release. Ophelia let loose a huff of air as her rocking slowed, her hips chasing the last pulses of pleasure she could take from him. Her legs moved – first the one all but behind his head, then the one nearly crushing his nethers.

“That will do for a start.”

Oh, he rather liked the sound of that.


End file.
